It Would Never be Love for Devils
by cbenso
Summary: One-Shot on Otis and Baby's relationship. DEff rated M! Had alittle trouble writing. Would like responses, and will rewrite if nesassary.


**Short ONE SHOT based somewhere in between 'House of a Thousand Corpse's and 'Devils Rejects'. It never a hundred percent states Otis and Baby are biological (not adopted) brother and sister…**

**On one hand I'd make a strong argument that Rob Zombie didn't want any romance there because what man wants someone touching his women (lust after sure, touch, no way jose) phst. The actress who plays Baby is his wife Sheri Moon btw. **

**One the other I don't frankly care. If you're a true fan of the Firefly clan this coupling won't bother you, much worse things in the film. Regardless, here's a warning.**

**I don't like the downgrade most writers take on the stories for this film. The characters are as Zombie wrote them, heartless, and sadistic and evil. I won't be changing that. Baby is portrayed as a psycho and Otis is depicted as a necrophiliac who is the worst kind of possible human/killer/degenerate ect. **

**My obsession with them as a source of study on human psyche (regarding the film) is ongoing. And proves my skewed feminine ability to find romance in anything is disturbing. Im not a total freak and I love real romance as well, this is not an existence to emulate. **

**Usual applies. No one's mine, I don't own them, just for fun creation.**

* * *

The smell of the room was something utterly repugnant. All areas of the old farm house stank of utter decay. But Otis Driftwood's room was almost intolerable, even to the host of psychopaths that resided there.

Baby avoided his room. He didn't like to be interrupted. Art was what he called it. The fit that would come from her boredom would draw him out.

Laughing. For hours. Guests were coming. Doctor Satan had just got fresh meat. Baby wanted to play. And playtime was the height of fun.

* * *

Leigh came to consciousness slowly. His tunnel vision widening, his sense of the pain hit in a wave, his nerve endings on fire, he blinked rapidly. "What the fuck." He mumbled. Only a grunt came out.

This was too much, where was he, what the fuck was going on, did he hit his head during practice, why couldn't he freakin move! Confused he mildly shifted, nope, held in place. WHAT WAS GOING ON.

It was dark as Leigh's eyes slowly began to adjust, not pitch no. It was twilight, possibly? Alright. Alright. Where was he. Chair, he was sitting on a chair, arms behind him. Tied. Classic vulnerability position. And the smell was musky…and blood. Defiantly blood. Some sort of accident. Gathering his wits took seconds. Felt longer.

"Waky wakey you sleepy fuck."

Women's voice, coming from somewhere behind him. High pitched, sounding immature, whiny. Leigh's head throbbed.

"What's happening?" he managed to croak out, licking his cracked lips with a dry tongue. Grimacing.

"Kinda fucking rude. Falling asleep, I've been nothing but nice to you."

"What are you talking about!" anger finally starting to flash in, some stupid whore had him tied to a chair. She would fucking pay for this. He flexed his wrists upping the pressure. Feeling the ropes thickness and guessing its unlikelihood of giving. He huffed.

"Shut up." Baby shrilled, coming into view.

Blonde, she was beautiful and he could tell that much, lack of light or no. The once over. Ripped jeans, whore top. Boobs weren't nothing to write home about, but fuck it she was worth a tumble or two. The look on her face though. Firstly she knew she was being appraised, Leigh even smirked through his grimace of cracking lips. But that look. She wasn't normal something was wrong.

"We're gonna play guess my thing. Yoooou ask me a question and if yoooooou get it right. All's fucking fair. But Wrong! And I take something! Okay! Go!"

Taking a second to process Leigh's attitude was surfacing. Years of practice at jeers and snips at school were inflamed.

"Bitch, let me the fuck up right fucking now." His best authoritative voice, mustered through the slightly clearing haze of pain.

"Wrong!" Baby's hands came in to view, slipping from behind her back, a bowie knife. Leigh's brows furrowed in confusion. What the fuck. And the first slip of fear began to skirm its way into his consciousness.

Something was off. She was off.

And as the kinfe cut through his baby finger his disbelief gave way to panic. The searing pain had his yelled threats intensify. explitives ran amok.

* * *

Otis was immersed in his work. Literally immersed in it in fact.

The squirming of the live ones was his favorite, but the cold of the dead, sometimes was just nicer. Most likely because of how foreign the chilled feeling was to that part of male anatomy. He pondered in the back of his brain, while his conscious self was engaged in the act.

Lost in his insane musinsg and work he almost failed to notice. Yelling from Baby's room.

Pause.

No fucking surprise there she had picked a retarded butt fuck from the sheep earlier.

Hesitation.

He was yelling plenty fucking offensive things. The usual Fuuuuck YOOOOOU bullshit. Nothing would fucking save him. Baby played with her victims, but she would get bored. Quickly. She lacked the dedication of time. A prissy little girl who couldn't hold a lick to his work.

His attention shifted back to the task at hand.

* * *

Leigh' s fingers were gone. Every fucking one of them. His voice was horse from yelling threats and finally begging for her to stop. Stupid crazy bitch. His mind couldn't quite comprehend it. It couldn't be real. Oh but the pain was real. And it refused to ebb out. Even when consciousness left. It wouldn't ebb out.

* * *

Otis had lost track of time. He hadn't left his room even after the sun came and went. He finally stirred from his masterpiece when hunger woke him.

Needed something cooked. Still pulling his jeans up Otis shoved the old oak door open into the hall. Scratching his beard he paused. Baby's door was closed. Why the fuck. No fucking way she was asleep still. Lumbering over the ten feet or so down the hall Otis gruffly smacked his hand to the door knob.

"What the fuck are you doing"." He grumbled condescendingly. The dumb slut had her room pitch black. But from the light through the door Otis could see her.

Otis had never been awestruck. Only one word came to mind. Art.

She was naked. Laying on top of her pink and white bed. Covered in blood. The Sheep's body hung in the chair near her, carved on it barely legible writing.

He was getting hard.

She was never covered in blood. Alittle here and there from whatever the fuck. But not like this, most of the time besides her insanity Baby blended with the flock.

Nothing else's registered. And Baby, drunk on her first long winded kill. Watched him with open eyes.

"You fucking pervert, even you can't take your eyes off me can you" she giggled manically.

For once Otis didn't say anything. He moved swiftly.

His lips crashed to hers hard. Painfully. And years. Fucking years of want and desire hit them as well.

Baby didn't think, her blood mingled with Leigh's as Otis took what he wanted roughly. For hours. She egged him on, insults and ravings of inadequecy abundant. shirl laughter through some. Hours.

* * *

They would never be together again after that night, abuse came easier. And many years later, while the wind whipped their hair and bullets tore through their bodies. Their dying though was not of decay or anger regret or devilry. It was of each other.


End file.
